


Reputation

by Flyting



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Humor, Kylo is the rathtar of love, M/M, Omega Hux, Power Bottom Hux, Snoke's Ineffectual Sex Ed 101, nontraditional a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyting/pseuds/Flyting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tfa_kink prompt:</p><p>  <i>Kylo finds out Hux is an omega. Functionally it makes no difference -- everybody in the FO takes hormone control -- but every so often medical deems fit to have someone go through a rut/heat. Alpha/omegas are uncommon enough that it doesn't present real disruptions. </i></p><p>  <i>Kylo is excited. He's an alpha, and has never experienced being around an available omega. Omegas are supposed submissive, needy things -- according to Han's old romance novels and Snoke's gender essentialism 101, at least. And the glut of porn. Subjugating the general sounds appealing.</i></p><p>  <i>It turns out heat makes Hux mean. He's aggressive, hostile, and doesn't seem to give a fuck about Kylo or his fancy dick.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've secretly always wanted to write A/B/O fic but this is the first time I've actually done it.

When Kylo Ren first learned that General Hux was an omega, he thought it had to be a mistake. He couldn’t reconcile the cold, collected, stiff-backed officer who had once forced him to fill out a requisition form _in triplicate_ just to use his own command shuttle with the image in his mind of the sexually voracious omega. But there it was, plain for all to see on the general’s official personnel file.  
  
_Primary Sex: Male  
Secondary Sex: Omega._

It had to be a computer error.

He knew all about omegas. When Ben Solo was a child, he’d found a holonovel under one of the access panels on the _Millennium Falcon._ It was called _Lonely Space Vixens,_ and it gave detailed ( _too_ detailed, especially the part with the Wookie, Ben had thought. He couldn’t look Uncle Chewie in the face for weeks) information about many of the different romantic encounters a male humanoid might expect in the Outer Rim territories. He’d found it invaluable. Especially the part about the two omegas in the shuttle with the waterbed.

It didn’t sound like Hux at all. He couldn’t even picture him owning a waterbed.

Later, when Ben Solo was discovered to have alpha characteristics at fourteen (which mostly consisted of crying a lot and smashing things when he got mad, so it was understandable that it took everyone a little while to notice that anything was out of the ordinary) his Uncle Luke had stammered some things at him that Ben didn’t entirely understand, avoiding eye contact the whole time. As best as Ben could figure out, it was a lot of talk about waiting until the right person came along, always treating your partners with respect, and then something he only half-caught about always finding out who their parents were first, just in case.

And staying away from the omegas when they were in heat. That was, according to Uncle Luke, _very_ important.

All this did was confirm what Ben already suspected: that omega humanoids were sexually ravenous beasts who would rip his clothes off as soon as look at him. At fourteen, with his Uncle’s injunction to ‘wait for the right person’ rattling around in his head, the thought had seemed duly terrifying, and he had dutifully avoided Idris, the only omega at the Jedi Academy, for a few days out of every quarter.

At nineteen, with the strain of an ascetic lifestyle starting to chafe (both literally and metaphorically), he’d prayed to the Force every night to allow him to ‘accidentally’ encounter an omega in heat. Just for an hour. Half an hour, even. He wasn’t picky.

It never happened, although Supreme Leader did slip some very enlightening ancient paper medical pamphlets under his door one evening. The diagrams got him through the next few years of frustrated celibacy.

When Supreme Leader deigned to take control of the First Order and installed Kylo in his rightful place of command aboard their flagship, he expected to meet at least _some_ omegas. The First Order was smaller than they liked their opponents to believe; they didn’t have the luxury of barring able-bodies crewmembers from their ships just because of some pesky secondary sex characteristics. Their solution, Kylo learned, was hormone suppressants. Every humanoid who presented with a secondary sex was required to take suppressants, which tamped down their mating drive and enabled the ship to run smoothly.

Still, Kylo likes to think that even with the suppressants, he would just _know_ , as an Force-sensitive alpha, if he were to meet an omega. There would be some kind of spark. Some attraction. Something.

He dismisses the outrageous idea that _Hux_ is an omega. Puts it out of his mind entirely, until he happens to overhear a conversation between the general and Captain Phasma in the _Finalizer_ ’ _s_ officer’s training toom.

Hux was practicing Echani, completely oblivious to Kylo’s attempts to discretely show off his skill with his lightsaber, his focus centered on the large padded target Phasma held in both hands.

“Those idiots in medical are insisting I need to start cycling my suppressants again,” Hux was saying, completing a graceful spin and landing a solid kick on the target. Echani suited him, Kylo thought privately. It was elegant. Beautiful. Like Hux. So graceful and orderly that, watching it, you forgot it was deadly.

“You would think they had never encountered an omega before,” he continued.

Ren pauses, floored, but luckily neither of them are looking at him. So it _was_ true.

“Are you going to do it?” Phasma asked, stepping back with the target, evading Hux just as he tried to land another solid blow.

“Well I don’t have much choice, do I?” he countered, irritated. He redirects his frustration, gracefully strikes the target two more times in quick succession with the heels of his hands. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You say that now." Phasma sounds almost teasing. "I’ve seen you in heat.”

The sudden and unexpected thought of Hux _in heat-_ cold, elegant _Hux_ turned needy and sweating and desperate for an alpha to fuck him- goes straight to Kylo’s dick. He’s nearly at full attention just from the mental images alone. And there would be noises too, of course there would be _noises…_ Hux begging, whining, _moaning his name_ -

He makes his escape from the room quickly before his situation can attract any attention. The last thing he hears as the door slides shut behind him is Hux’s voice, “It’s only for a few days. It’ll be hard, but everyone will just have to put up with it.”

After the door closes, Phasma glances at it curiously. She was certain she heard a pained whimper from the other side.

 

 

Which is how, ten years after the fact, Kylo Ren stands poised at the entrance to the bridge, prepared to get his wish and encounter his first omega in heat.

He knows what to expect. He spent the last week scouring the First Order’s restricted HoloNet access for everything to do with alphas and omegas, weeding out the most egregiously outrageous examples (he really didn’t think Hux was going to suddenly invite two of his friends to join them, even if he _was_ a ravenous omega) and patching it with his remembered knowledge from Supreme Leader’s helpful pamphlets. Kylo feels like he has a good idea of how things will progress.

Secondary sex characteristics seemed to depend a lot on smell. As soon as Hux, in his heightened state, became aware of Kylo’s manly alpha scent (he had eschewed using the shower this morning just in case) he would become aroused. He would probably resist, because it was Hux and Hux never wanted to let Kylo have anything nice, but within a few minutes his mating instincts would take over, his pupils would dilate, his lovely pale skin would flush, and he would throw himself straight at Kylo’s cock (he had eschewed underwear as well to make it easier), while making flattering comments about the size and impressiveness of Kylo’s erection. At which point it would be Kylo’s responsibility as the alpha to lift Hux bodily over his shoulder, ignoring his needy whimpers and roving hands, and carry him back to his chambers where they would fuck like horny loth-cats intermittently for the next 3-4 day cycles.

Kylo is quite looking forward to all of this.

It had occurred to him, with more glee than remorse, that doing all of this on the bridge, in front of their command staff, is going to cause Hux no end of embarrassment once he regains his senses. But Hux has made himself impossible to find lately. Kylo had tracked the days since he went off his suppressants, counting down the average time before a reactive heat could be expected as his hormones righted themselves. But as the days ticked down, Hux became scarcer and scarcer. Now, Kylo thinks he’s barely left the bridge all day.

It is not- technically speaking- _necessary_ for either of them to be on the bridge. Hux may be the highest ranking First Order officer aboard, but they have captains to handle the dull, everyday piloting of the ship.

Kylo suspects that he may be hiding out. The bridge crew are all betas.

The first thing Kylo notices as he steps onto the bridge is that it is half-empty. The radar technicians, the auxiliary pilots, all non-essential crew seem to be absent. Those that remain are… afraid. Kylo reaches out through the Force, taking a measure of the room. There’s a palpable sense of anxiety in the air. They’re scared of something.

“Lieutenant, have you completed that sector scan?” Hux snaps, striding into view across the catwalk that covers the recessed computer banks. His normally perfectly slicked hair is breaking out in frizz.

“Yes, sir!” a small voice chimes back from the pit.

“And?”

“N-nothing, sir!”

“Did you check for sub-atmospheric frequencies? They may be hiding on one of the planets.”

“I- no, sir.”

“Why not?” Hux grates out.

“…because you didn’t tell me to… sir.”

Everything on the bridge goes deathly quiet.

“How old are you, officer?” Hux says with sinuous calm. He hovers on the catwalk above the cringing petty officer’s workstation

“Twenty-four, sir.”

“So for twenty-four years, you’ve managed to survive without me to do your thinking for you?”

“I- yes, sir.”

“Do you think, if you try very hard, you can manage the next ten minutes?”

“Yes, sir!”

“What are you going to do? Now think very carefully- that’s when your brain starts making all those funny little noises that sound like words. I’m sure you remember how. ”

“…Run the sector scan again, this time checking for sub-atmospheric frequencies?” His voice trembles.

“Congratulations, officer, at this rate you may one day mentally outpace a dianoga.”

There is an audible sigh as a dozen people collectively let out the breaths they had been holding. Hux stalks over to one of the pilots, his movement whip-quick and agitated, bending his long frame at the waist to lean over the back of her chair.  The pilot points one shaking hand at a hovering section of a holo star chart, clearly hesitant in asking the general for some kind of input.

Kylo takes this as his cue to approach.


	2. Chapter 2

 “The next person who asks me an idiotic question is getting sent for reconditioning,” Hux snarls over his shoulder to the room at large. Kylo pauses.

He wonders, briefly, if perhaps he’s miscalculated the days planning for Hux’s heat to take effect. But no- his math is sound. In addition to their helpful diagrams, Supreme Leader’s pamphlets were very clear on the length of time between anestrous and estrous. He simply expected to find the man less agitated and more pliable. More languishing. Clearly the lack of relief for his heat has made the general tense and irritable.

Kylo thinks, with no small degree of anticipation, that he will simply have to fuck it out of him.

“Ren!” Hux snaps. “Yes, I see you hovering back there, you great nerk. Either make yourself useful or get off my bridge.”

In deference to his omega’s irritable mood, Kylo resists the urge to respond that according to Supreme Leader, it is his bridge too and thus he has a right to hover wherever he wants.

He steps forward, his boots echoing on the polished metal floor in the half-empty room. “General,” he says. And pauses. He hadn’t planned for this; hadn’t planned to actually have to _say anything_ to encourage Hux to mate with him. 

Neither Luke Skywalker nor Supreme Leader had prepared him for this.

“You seem tense, general,” he says, finally, trying to recall some of the things the alphas he had seen on the HoloNet had said to their omegas. (Much of what he remembers is supremely unhelpful. He really doesn't think Hux will appreciate being called some of those names, even if the omegas in the holofilms seemed to like it, and Uncle Luke did tell him to be respectful.) “There may be something I can do to help.”

“The door to the airlock is to your right,” Hux says without looking at him. “Kindly leave your security code behind. It’ll make the paperwork easier.”

“That…” Kylo recovers quickly. “Isn’t what I had in mind.” The vocoder on his mask makes his voice sound rich and low to his own ears. Full of sultry promise. Surely it will have some effect on Hux?

He steps closer, until he is just behind the general, and how has he never realized before that Hux is the perfect height for Kylo to speak directly into his ear. “I know what’s bothering you. I can fix it, if you’ll let me.”

Invading Hux’s personal space is one of Kylo’s not-so-secret pleasures. The way the cold, collected general just _freezes_ when leans in too close; not in panic, but in _defiance._ His jaw set and his back straight, in a stubborn unwillingness to budge no matter how close Kylo gets.

Hux simply refuses to be intimidated by him, despite the fact that Kylo knows himself to be really quite intimidating (he’s practiced it in front of the mirror in his quarters). It’s delightful. He gets no end of pleasure out of seeing just how far the general will let him push before he finally pushes back.

This time he cannot resist the urge to tilt his head just a little and breathe in the narrow expanse of pale skin peeking up over the collar of Hux’s uniform, and _oh stars-_

The effect is dampened by the respirator on his mask, but Hux smells _amazing._ All rich, inviting warmth that sinks low into Kylo’s belly, curling itself around his cock. He breathes again, open-mouthed. Any doubts he had about his timing fly out the door. He’s never felt anything like this before, this is-  he can _smell_ Hux’s heat on him. Hux's body is calling out to him, practically _begging_ to be mounted, desperate to be filled-

It takes all of his carefully-honed mastery of the Force not to simply come in his pants right there.

Something about that rich heat scent goes straight to the base of his spine, tugging at some answering urge there, whispering to him _how strong he is, how powerful,_ and _how much it needs him._ Kylo doesn’t want to do anything with the rest of his life except spend it giving Hux exactly what he wants.

 “The only thing that’s bothering me right now is you,” Hux says, bristling. Kylo is close enough, practically plastered up against his back, to see that the fine copper hairs at the back of his neck are standing up in irritation.

This isn’t the reaction he was expecting. The base, animal part of him that’s tethered to that wonderful _salt-heat-wanting_ smell wants to whine in the back of his throat. Was he not doing this right?

“ _Ren_ …” The warning to _back away_ comes out as a sharp growl.

Kylo does, suddenly uncertain.

No longer pinned between the long length of Kylo’s body and the back of a chair, Hux shoulders past him with an irritated sound, the movement sharp and agitated.  (Unnoticed, the pilot whose console they had been leaning over lets out a shaky sigh of relief.)

“Where the hell is Mitaka?” Hux says to the room at large.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Hux in heat was supposed to be submissive. He was supposed to be _needy._ Kylo suspects that if he tried to throw Hux over his shoulder and carry him off right now, Hux would kick him in the balls. And not a warning kick either.

Why was he so agitated? Didn’t he feel the pull between them the way that Kylo did? Unless…

Of course, _the mask_ \- Hux must be having a hard time getting Kylo’s alpha scent through all the thick layers of his robes and helmet-

The idea of taking off his mask in front of all these people is faintly nauseating. It would be like being _naked._ _Worse_ than being naked. His hands hesitate on the pressurized release switch at his jaw, bbut the memory of that heat scent coils low and insidious in his chest, effectively chasing out his fears. If it would help his omega realize that Kylo was the alpha his body was yearning for…

He would do it. For Hux.

There is a sharp moment of panic as the cool, dry air of the bridge touches his bare skin; a feeling of being exposed, before Kylo realizes (with something like offended disappointment) that no one is even looking at him. He feels his mouth twist in a little frown. The Master of the Knights of Ren was standing unmasked in their presence, and they didn’t even bother to look up from their radar screens. How petty. 

(Later, it would comfort him just slightly to realize that it wasn't necessarily obliviousness that kept the bridge crew from taking notice of the rare sight of the knight's face, but sheer pants-soiling terror of what General Hux would say if he caught them doing anything instead of working.)

Hux is talking to a lieutenant, interrogating him- something about a requisition form and a type of tea, and the lieutenant’s voice is squeaking out ‘ _but sir you only ordered it this morning and it has to be smuggled all the way from Coruscant-_ as Kylo approaches the omega tentatively, his helmet clasped under his arm. He shakes his head, trying to toss an errant chunk of hair back out of his eyes.

“General Hux!” It’s the petty officer from before. The stupid one. Kylo's  glares at him from across the bridge before realizing that everyone can actually _see_ him glaring. “Sub-atmospheric scans picked up a ship hiding on the fourth planet in this system. Readings are consistent with the Resistance freighter we’ve been tracking.”

Shouldering right past Kylo, utterly oblivious to the alpha, Hux alights on the officer’s console. His pale eyes brightly reflect the glow of the holoscreen, with a fervor that the peoples of primitive, superstitious planets might call hellish.

“Shall I dispatch TIE fighters, General?”

Hux eyes the slowly rotating holo showing the planet below. “No. I’m not giving them the chance to escape this time. The moment we’re in range, commence aerial bombardment of the planet, starting with this quadrant here and working out. Shoot everything that tries to leave the atmosphere.”  
  
“Yes, sir!”  
  
“What did I just say? Repeat it.”  
  
“Shoot anything that tries to-“

“Wrong. I said shoot _everything_ that tries to leave the atmosphere. I don’t care if it looks like a hunk of rock. _Shoot it_ until it is a million smaller hunks of rock. Then shoot each of those smaller rocks for good measure. They’re not getting away from us this time. Understood?”

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. Because if they do, everyone on this bridge is getting demoted to sanitation duty, and I will personally execute the individual responsible."

Kylo gapes, momentarily not caring that absolutely anyone could see him.

This must be what love felt like. None of his studies had ever covered the subject of love, but he's quite certain this has to be it. How fierce, how _perfect_ his omega was. How fitting they would be together-

Seizing the moment, he steps forward, intent on staking his claim, but the moment he’s within arm’s reach of the omega, Hux bristles again, “ _Ren_ ,” he growls, his hackles raising. “If you really have nothing better to do than sulk around, then go stand by the door and pretend you’re a fucking hat-rack, you lumbering maleficence. At least then you’ll be doing something somewhat useful. “

Kylo wants to scream. He wants to whine, to paw at Hux in his pain. _What had he done wrong_? Hux had to be able to sense him- had to be able to smell how much Kylo _wanted_ him, how much he needed to please him. With his mask and respirator off, the heady omega heat-scent of him was all Kylo could smell-

He stands there, awkward and useless, in the middle of the catwalk, unable to figure out _why._

As he passes Kylo, Hux sniffs once, sharply, his nose wrinkling. “Did you forget to shower this morning? You smell vile.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter for: mild violence, blood, implied non-consensual kissing, and Hux being a bamf.

The next time Hux goes into heat, Kylo wonders if maybe he just wasn’t direct enough.

He had spent a great deal of time over the spanning weeks meditating on his failure alone in his quarters ( _not_ sulking, and most definitely not crying to his grandfather’s helmet, no matter what the Stormtroopers who patrolled that deck claimed to have overheard). It had brought him to a tenuous conclusion: omega or not, Hux was still the commander of the First Order’s armed forces, and an accomplished general besides. It made sense that he wouldn’t roll over and spread his legs for just anyone.  He must be used to alphas throwing themselves at him right and left. It was only fitting that he would expect his partners to prove themselves.

What Kylo had to do was show Hux what a suitable mate he was. He knew he was a powerful, Force-sensitive alpha. The Master of the Knights of Ren and terror of the New Republic. He needed to be forceful. To demonstrate his strength and power in a way the general couldn’t possibly misconstrue.

But how? He could defend the general from danger, maybe. He imagines throwing himself between Hux and a dozen armed Resistance soldiers to selflessly protect his omega. Hux would stare up at him in gratitude and _approval_ as he tossed their enemies aside like toys, neatly dismembering them in bold swings of his lightsaber. At which point Hux, awed by his strength and prowess, would rip his clothes off and beg to be taken right there on the floor. (After, presumably, cleaning off a spot on the floor so they didn’t roll in anything dirty. It _was_ Hux.)

The only problem he could see with that plan, of course, was that it depended on the Resistance attacking at the perfect time. And it was dangerous. Even with Kylo there to protect him, Hux might be hurt. The base, primal part of him was very clear on that- Hux could not be hurt.

There was another option. He is less enthusiastic about this one, but with the window of Hux's heat slowly closing, he is getting desperate. He's already wasted twice his water ration for the week on cold showers.

When Hux retires to his quarters for the evening, Kylo will approach him there, unmasked and dressed only in his tight-fitting training pants and black undershirt.

If bare shoulders and clinging fabric isn’t enough to gain him entrance to the general’s room, he will ring the comm and claim that he has accidentally destroyed the computer console in his quarters and needs to use Hux’s to requisition a new one. (In heat or not, Hux can never resist the opportunity to rub Kylo’s nose in one of his mistakes. He likes to think that Hux would approve of Kylo using his own weaknesses against him.) Either way, once Hux lets him in, Kylo will declare his interest by picking Hux up in his arms, pushing him up against the nearest wall, and kissing him senseless until Hux is overcome with ravening desire and begs Kylo to throw him down on the bed and have his way with him right then and there.

If this doesn’t demonstrate that he is clearly a strong and powerful alpha, he doesn’t know what will.

As commander, Kylo’s security clearance allows him access to the Finalizer’s extensive holocam network. The security footage flicks past on his console, showing bustling hangar bays and training rooms, half-empty corridors, before settling on a sealed door in an innocuous residence hall. He watches, attentive for a familiar flash of copper-orange hair.

It was a mistake to approach the general on the bridge before. He realizes this now. Of course he would be more likely to resist his attraction to Kylo in front of their command staff. Hux was very ambitious. He wouldn’t want his career goals undermined by anything as basic as his secondary sex. Kylo will have to be more considerate when Hux is his mate.

Hux strides into view down the empty corridor, but to Kylo’s surprise he isn’t alone. A tall, strongly-built man in the black uniform of a First Order pilot dogs his steps. His mouth is moving, saying something to Hux, who responds, unheard. Kylo leans in, cursing the lack of audio on the security holocams in the corridors.

Rotating the image to get a better view, Kylo suddenly recognizes the man. He has to resist the urge growl low in his throat. It’s Guitano, the captain in command of the TIE fighter squadrons. Another alpha.

There aren’t many alphas on board the _Finalizer._ A few dozen, maybe more. Most of them are in the command staff. He can always recognize them, sensing them even through their suppressants, and from the fact that they tend to give him wide berth in the halls. Being near them always makes him feel defensive and irritable. 

Guitano reaches out and closes one gloved hand over the general’s bicep, halting him. The sight of his hand- a _nother alpha’s hand_ \- on Hux makes something hot and angry lash through his belly. How dare he grab at a general of the First Order like some common-

Hux pauses outside the door to his quarters and turns to face the captain, his movements slow but sharp, and the line of his shoulders tense. Angry. Guitano drops his arm, apologetic. Hux says something, and Kylo doesn’t need audio to tell that it’s some kind of scathing insult. (Hux’s mouth always looks like that- pressed hard line, like he’s just been force-fed a lemon- when he’s denigrating someone. Kylo finds it endearing.)

Undeterred, Guitano leans in, his eyes bright, both arms coming up to bracket Hux’s waist, pinning him against the door. Hux bristles, snarling at the man and bringing a hand up to force some space between them. Kylo frowns. Can't Guitano see that he's irritating the omega? They are chest-to-chest now, close enough to-

Kylo lunges for the holoscreen so suddenly that his chair topples over, unnoticed, behind him. _He was going to kill him he was going to kill him he was going to kill him-_

Unthinking, Kylo extends one hand for his lightsaber, his fingers curling tight around the metal when it flies obligingly into his hand. There’s a comforting hum as it ignites and then a shrill sound of screaming metal as he swings, bringing the weapon down in a sharp arc on the computer console that is still showing _Captain Guitano kissing Hux._ He swings again and again- until the screen flickers once and the image dies, the console hissing and popping.

Hux’s quarters are three halls over; Kylo covers the distance in record time, aware of nothing except the thundering rage inside him and the desperate all-consuming need to protect _his_ omega from this pushy upstart alpha.

Guitano wasn’t allowed to hurt Hux. Guitano wasn’t allowed to _touch_ Hux. Hux was his, Hux was _special-_

“Guards!” It was Hux’s voice, shouting from around the corner just ahead of him. Kylo rounds it just as three Stormtroopers approach at a run from the opposite direction. They all pause, four helmeted heads staring expressionlessly, at the sight of Captain Guitano lying on his back whimpering, his broken nose gushing blood and General Hux’s polished black boot crushing his trachea. Hux is breathing just slightly hard through his nose, his hair sticking up in tufts and his mouth twisted into a bitter frown as he stares down at the writhing man underneath him.

“Take the captain into custody,” Hux orders the Stormtroopers. “Assault on a superior officer. I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!”

As the Stormtroopers drag the captain to his feet, manhandling him along between them with more force than was strictly necessary (the general had always been popular amongst the troops), Hux scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand and spits.

“ _What_ , Ren?” He says, smoothing his hair back.

“I…” Kylo flounders. The only thoughts ricocheting uselessly around in his head are, _don’t say ‘I was watching you’_ and _I love you. “_ I heard you shouting. I thought you were in danger.”

“As you can see, I don’t need your protection,” Hux snaps, turning to go into his quarters.

“Yes, I see that." To keep him nearby, Kylo blurts out the first thing to come to mind. "I broke my console.”

“So order a new one.” Hux says, but without much venom. He sounds tired. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Ren, it’s already going to take a week’s water rations to get this smell off.”

It’s true. Hux smells like the other alpha; all windswept hair and rut-stench and arrogance. Quite irrationally, it makes Kylo want to close the distance between them and rub himself on the general until the problem is corrected and Hux smells like _him_ instead of like Guitano. But he remembers the choking noise the other alpha had made as Hux pressed down on his throat, and restrains himself.

“Goodnight, general,” Kylo says uselessly after the door has closed behind him.

Later, Kylo will review the holofootage (on a public console, where he will also take a moment to flag his personal computer as ‘in need of repair’ with the ship’s maintenance crew) of the kiss. He will see Hux, pinned between Guitano and the wall (he resists the urge to growl at the sight) strike the captain hard in the sternum with the heel of his hand. When he staggers back, Hux spins, striking him again in the face with his elbow, shattering his nose, and finishes with a graceful Echani move that flips Guitano over his shoulder and slams him to the floor. Kylo watches the footage over and over. Every blow is perfectly controlled, ruthlessly efficient; Guitano never even had time to cry out.

Once he is down and clearly incapacitated, Hux swings one long leg like a dancer, his teeth bared and hair falling from its careful slick into his eyes as he brings his boot up hard between Guitano’s legs. Kylo cringes and fast-forwards through that part.

The forceful approach, he thinks, is most definitely out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Fixed a typo

The officer’s mess on board the _Finalizer_ is half empty; an irregularity for this early in the cycle.

Word must have gotten out from the bridge crew that General Hux is in heat.

A handful of officers who were already there when Hux arrived are clustered around the walls and the viewports, all of them trying very hard to eat quickly and not attract attention from either of the room’s other occupants.

Kylo Ren sits, undisturbed in a far corner of the room, where he can discretely watch General Hux as the man annihilates a plate of some kind of unassuming roast bird. Kylo has a plate in front of him with some type of sandwich on it, more to complete the illusion that he is actually there to eat food, instead of lurk around pining after Hux, than out of genuine hunger. (An illusion that would be more complete had he also thought to remove his mask and helmet.)

Hux eats like he’s starving; viciously ripping into the braised flesh, licking the juice off of his lips before chasing a stray vegetable as it attempts to make an escape across the plate and stabbing it. Kylo watches him pluck it off the tip of the knife with his teeth, his eyes closed in pleasure, and nearly moans.

“What are you doing?” It’s Captain Phasma’s voice, still rich and sedate even without the benefit of her vocoder. Kylo glances up; her helmet is off and she has a tray in both hands. Her eyes are hard with suspicion.

“Eating,” he says.

Phasma’s gaze flicks from the untouched sandwich on his plate to the blank expanse of the faceplate on his mask, before following his line of sight to where General Hux sits, unaware. Her expression is disapproving.

Something like panic spikes in his chest. _He’s been found out._

“Captain,” he says as she turns to leave. “A moment.”

“Yes?”

“You spend time with Hux. Socially.”

“Within the official parameters for fraternization between officers. Yes.”

Kylo hesitates, trying out different phrases in his head before settling on, “If there was an alpha who wanted to declare an interest in the general, how would you suggest they do it? I am asking for a friend,” he adds at the last minute.

She doesn’t respond for a moment, staring at him long and hard before taking her time settling in the chair across from Kylo.

“He’s already noticed your interest, Lord Ren” Phasma says finally, with her usual slow reproach. “Everyone in this sector has noticed. The entire deck reeks of horny alpha.” She adds, “Do you not take suppressants?”

“Supreme Leader says I don’t have to,” Kylo mutters, a touch defensively.

“I would suggest you consider it, for the sake of the crew. If I may, sir, your presence is aggravating to the general in his present condition. He’s even more of a terror to be around when you’re nearby.”

He wants to growl in frustration. “But why?” Phasma was an alpha, and the general seemed largely oblivious to her presence. “You don’t bother him.”

“I take my suppressants,” she says simply. “And I don’t spend my time trying to rub up on him.”

“I haven’t done that,” he says, silently adding _lately._

“An example, then. Would you ever fuck a rathtar?”

He cocks his head to the side, unsure of where this is going. “No.”

“Even if you were drunk and it was in love with you?”

Setting aside the question of why a rathtar would ever be in love with him, Kylo considers. “I could never be that drunk.”

“Precisely,” Phasma says. “Lowering your inhibitions doesn’t change who you are. There are some things you will always find repugnant no matter what mental state you’re in.”

In that light, it made sense. Even in his heat, Hux was still _Hux._ Although-

“Wait,” Kylo says slowly, thinking. “That means… am I the rathtar?”

“Enjoy your lunch, Lord Ren.” Phasma says, rising with her tray.

She crosses the dining hall to where Hux is sitting, scraping the last of his tray clean. Kylo watches, attentive to the subconscious way the omega reacts to the other alpha. Even though he greets Phasma by name, Hux watches her carefully as she approaches, eyes narrowed, his shoulders hunching forward a little over the remains of his food. Defensive and a little wary. His eyes track her every movement, almost unthinkingly.

Phasma leans across the table with her tray and tips her vegetables onto his plate. The general visibly relaxes, his shoulders straightening. He attacks the extra portion with enthusiasm.

Maybe, Kylo thinks, he was going about this all wrong. The things he’d seen on the HoloNet plainly weren’t working. (He is beginning to think that those holovids were inaccurate.)

Hux tolerated Phasma even though she was an alpha because she didn’t display any overt romantic interest in him, and because she placated him with food and served as a buffer between the omega and other, more amorous, alphas. Phasma had subtly angled herself so that she was between Kylo and Hux, mostly blocking his view.

Maybe he needed to try _courting_ the general instead of trying to simply displaying his dominance as an alpha? The omega didn’t seem to need his strength or his protection. What did he need?

He pulls out his datapad, the stylus ridiculously small and fragile in his overlarge hand. Thinking, he writes:

_Things Hux likes when he’s in heat_

  * _Food_
  * _Tea from Coruscant_
  * _Cleanliness_
  * _Killing the Resistance_



The list was not all that different from the things Hux liked when he wasn’t in heat. Just… more so. With a little thought, he begins to see the logic in it. The purpose of a mating drive was to create offspring. He wanted to fuck, obviously, but being in heat clearly also made Hux broody. In that same base, animal way that Kylo wanted to protect and provide for Hux, the omega’s body wanted food and comfort (Kylo seems to recall that Hux was born on Coruscant, back before the First Order went into exile), a clean space and a safe galaxy in which to raise any theoretical young.

Entirely theoretical, he corrects himself. Hux only stopped taking his suppressants because medical insisted. It’s unlikely he wants offspring. At least, for now.

Still. The thought crystallizes slowly in his head. If he showed that he could provide those things, perhaps Hux would begin to consider him as a suitable mate?

Considering the first item on the list, Kylo eyes untouched sandwich on his plate. He rises, decisive, taking the tray with him.

Phasma and Hux both pause in their conversation as he approaches, watching the new alpha approach with unguarded suspicion.

“Yes, Ren?” Hux asks, bristling a little, defensively.

“I can’t finish this,” Kylo says, indicating his plate. “Do you want it?”

The general’s eyes dart from the sandwich to Kylo’s masked face and back. In the end, hunger wins out over his suspicion.  “Yes,” he says primly, indicating that Kylo should drop the sandwich on his plate and back away. Kylo does, grinning to himself inside his helmet.

 _What are you doing?_ Phasma was thinking, the thought so sharp he can hear it clearly.

 _I’m going to stop being a rathtar,_ he transmits back at her, relishing the twinge of surprise on her face at his voice in her head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extended break!

Kylo does not wait until Hux is in heat again to enact his plan.

His reasoning for this is threefold: first, he is an impatient man, and once he has an objective in front of him he prefers to take action immediately.

Second: While he may not be brilliant tactician on par with the general, Kylo Ren does know a thing or two about carrying out a campaign of attack. Striking when your opponent is unaware is the most basic of strategies. (Less of a strategy and more just _common sense.)_

A lesser known, but still vitally important, aspect of battle strategy was not to attempt to carry out a tactically challenging plan of action while half out of your mind with omega heat-scent. Now that Hux no longer radiates that tantalizing, siren warmth, Kylo can actually think clearly. He can even go whole hours without being distracted by the plush curve of Hux’s lips or the long lines of his calves in those clinging leather boots. Well… a few hours, anyway. They were very nice boots.

And third, the first stage of his plan will work better if Hux isn’t in heat. Now Kylo can get near him without fearing that any limb that accidentally encroaches too far into the general’s personal bubble is going to be snapped off.

His Plan is (he thinks) elegant in its simplicity. Straightforward and direct, the way he prefers. Kylo will provide Hux with things that he knows the omega enjoys – obscure things, preferably, chosen to say  _look how talented I am to have gotten this for you_ \- while otherwise maintaining respectful, cordial relations between them. _Professionalism_ is one of the traits that his careful observations (it wasn’t _stalking_ if you took notes) have told him that Hux likes in a person. Kylo can be professional.

If Hux is going to enjoy the gifts, he must not feel like there’s a price tag attached.

He will not mention sex. Or mating. Definitely not marriage, although during his last venture off-ship, Kylo accidentally caught himself staring with longing at a display of wedding bands, imagining the way the black tungsten would gleam against Hux’s pale hand. But he can’t get ahead of himself. There will be plenty of time for settling down once the galaxy has been brought firmly to order; crushed, like Captain Guitano’s throat under Hux’s immaculately-polished boot. (Kylo saved a security holo of the attack. He needed something to replace those misleading vids off the HoloNet.)

If all goes as he’s planned, by the next time Hux goes into heat, he will view Kylo as a trusted provider; a worthy mate, instead of a rude, amorous rathtar who only wants to rub off on him.

Kylo is more than a little nervous about this plan. He’s never courted anybody before.

As he waits for Hux to return to his office, he thinks that this is because there has never been anybody else so perfectly suited to him before.

Hux’s office, like Hux, was sleek and efficient. Immaculately tidy, almost to the point of seeming dull. But once he really looked there were hints everywhere at the brilliant mind and the ferocity lurking underneath that calm exterior. A line of pictures on the wall- the sole decorations in the room- were, Kylo realized, the technical schematics of the old Death Stars. The Mark I and the Mark II he recognizes, followed by a third that he doesn’t. It takes him a minute to realize, with a flutter of glee, that this is because it is the never-built Mark III, and what’s more- _that Hux had added his own modifications to the design._

Behind Hux’s desk, the viewport shows the outline of Starkiller Base, a dull brown-grey against the sea of stars, so that anyone sitting in the chair across from Hux would see the general backed by his most fearsome creation.

Kylo does not, technically, have an office (not unless you counted the interrogation chamber, which he didn’t, if only because it was sorely lacking in storage space) but if he did he cannot imagine it being this nice.

Truly, there could be no one more fitting to stand by Kylo’s side as he brought the galaxy to heel. Hux was brilliant, ferocious, handsome. They had shared interests. They were not alike- not exactly- but _complimentary._ The fact that Hux is an omega, and thus sexually compatible with Kylo in ways he has only ever been able to imagine, is merely a delightful bonus. Like saving the galaxy and getting a medal for it afterwards too.

The lights snap on automatically as the general enters. His head is bent over his datapad, a little frown creasing the space between his eyes, and Kylo must resist the urge to soothe it away with his thumb.

Hux jumps like a shot womp-rat and makes an undignified little choking noise when he notices Kylo for the first time, though he manages not to drop the datapad, clutching it briefly to his chest.

“General,” Kylo says, inclining his head. After some consideration, he had decided to go without his mask and helmet, the better for Hux to associate Kylo’s face- his scent- with the receipt of gifts.  
  
“I thought I locked the door.” Hux frowns at it and then at Kylo in suspicion.

“Yes, you did,” Kylo agrees.

For a moment, the general seems to be considering reprimanding him. “No matter,” he decides, mouth tight. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you anyway, Lord Ren. This is as good a time as any.”

“About what?” Kylo asks, his heart suddenly thudding in his throat.

Taking a seat behind his desk and laying down the datapad, Hux sighs. “I am aware that I said some things to you recently which were highly unprofessional. It was unjustified, on my part, and unbecoming of men in our position,” the words roll off his tongue smoothly, like he’d practiced them. Kylo notices that his copper hair is neat and tidy again. Starkiller hovers in the distance just over his left shoulder. “In the interest of maintaining a cordial working relationship, I would like to… apologize.”

Standing across from the desk, Kylo frowns. This was not remotely how he expected this meeting to go.  “No, I- there’s no need to apologize. I understand, you were under a lot of pressure,” he says, though inside his heart does what feels like a small flip. _Hux hadn’t meant to call him a useless, or lumbering, or any of those other names._ Hux _apologized_ to him.

“Still,” Hux presses. The frown line is back, and Kylo doesn’t know how to banish it. “I shouldn’t have allowed it to interfere with my work.”

“That’s…” Kylo considers his Plan. “That’s why I’m here too. To say I was sorry. For the way I’ve been behaving.” He looks away, letting the words tumble out of his mouth gracelessly. “I was unprepared for how being around you in that state would affect me.”

“Most people are,” Hux says tightly. He softens microscopically. “I probably should have warned you.”

Considering his eavesdropping in the training room, Kylo changes the subject. “Are you always that angry when you’re in heat?”  
  
If Hux being in heat was anything like the ruts he used to go through as a teenager, Kylo thinks he can understand. (Contrary to popular belief, Kylo hadn’t regularly gone into rut since he was a teenager. He just liked to smash things.)  
  
Hux flinches just a little at the word, affecting an expression of bland distaste, like Kylo has accidentally said something obscene.

“Wouldn’t you be? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, trying to maintain command when half your staff wants to bend you over the nearest console?”

“Not really.”

Kylo tries to imagine any of Hux’s officers thinking about him in a sexual fashion. Tries to picture the little mousy one, maybe (Mitasha, or whatever his name was), trying to ‘bend him over a console’. The mental image refuses to coalesce. He shakes his head to clear it, the movement making his hair bounce. He had put extra effort into it that morning. Cleanliness was on the list of things Hux liked.  
  
Hux is thinking of Captain Guitano, and Kylo suddenly wonders if there were other such ‘incidents’. Even others on the _Finalizer._ The thought is going to keep him up at night now. He is suddenly and intensely grateful for Hux’s ability to look after himself.  
  
 “Also, I- I got you something.” Remembering himself, Kylo fumbles in his heavy robe for a moment, rummaging around in its depths and pulling out a lacquered wooden box the size of his fist. With one long arm, he sets it on the desk in front of Hux.

He tries not to radiate too much pride at the unassuming object. It had taken him days to track down. Kylo didn’t know anything about tea except that it was hot and involved leaves, but the Akkadian Ceylon Hux had requisitioned during the first days of his heat was apparently very fine and next-to-impossible to find outside of the Core Worlds. The upper ranks of the First Order had contacts; smugglers, thieves, and spies who did a brisk trade in contraband, but it was still a long and uncertain trip for what was basically a box full of leaves.

Kylo was faster. He had cut out the middle-man (literally, although Hux probably didn’t have to know that) and captured a trading vessel just leaving Coruscant.

It occurs to Kylo belatedly that he should probably be telling Hux all of this if he wants Hux to be impressed with his efforts, but when the general’s pale green eyes light up as he opens the box, Kylo thinks that it probably isn’t necessary.

“Is this Akkadian Ceylon?” Hux asks, cradling the box of tea in both hands, his breath coming out in a soft rush that makes something in Kylo’s chest give a wobbly lurch. “Where- how did you get it?”

“I found it. On a ship I intercepted.” Those words in that order are not, technically, a lie.

But his omega is clever, ( _paranoid_ , Kylo thinks affectionately) and Hux’s eyes narrow, immediately suspicious. “And you conveniently happened to remember that I wanted some, and decided to bring it to me? For no reason at all?”

Several potential lies flit through his mind before he settles on, “… yes.”

Hux sighs.

“Ren. I know what you’re doing,” he says, with a hint of reproach. 

_Oh._

“Do you want me to stop?” He will, if it’s what Hux wants, even though the thought fills him with something small and irritably like despair. There’s no point in courting Hux if Hux doesn't want him to. 

And it had been such a _good_ plan, too.

Hux is turning the box of contraband tea over in his gloved hands, quietly thoughtful. “I didn’t say that.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Continue. If you must.”


	6. Chapter 6

His mistake, Kylo thinks as his plan begins to take shape, was in trying to approach Hux as just an available omega instead of approaching Hux as… well, Hux.

The general was not just any omega, he was the _only_ omega worthy of Kylo’s attentions, and he deserved to be treated as such. He deserved an empire. Kylo didn't have one for him yet, but in the meantime he makes due.

After the tea, a smuggling ship trespassing in the outer reaches of First Order territory yields up a bounty of Naboo’s infamously rich chocolates.

For all his disparaging comments on the decadence of the New Republic, Hux stuffs three in his mouth right there in front of Kylo, who waits for his hand-wave and, “Carry on, Ren,” (slightly muffled) with something like glee.

It was _working_. Hux enjoyed something that Kylo had given him. He was _providing_ for Hux.  
  
Kylo wants to run up and down the halls. He wants to start singing, or maybe just break something.

Hux wanted to be courted by him. Hux _wanted him._

Or at least, was willing to entertain the idea of wanting him. It was a start.

He’s in such a cheerful mood that he barely even strangles the cowering technician who stops by to inform him that _I’m very sorry please sir Lord Ren but_ IT will not be able to repair his personal console. For some unfathomable reason, lightsaber gouges weren't covered under the Accidental Damages clause of his warranty.

Kylo shoves the technician out the door with a flick of his hand and pulls out his battered datapad, jabbing at the screen with a gloved finger as he puts in an order for _another_ new personal console. He will have to put it on his expense account (Supreme Leader had stopped footing the bill for his damaged equipment ages ago in the hopes that Kylo would _finally learn the value of credits,_ whatever that meant) which means that Hux will see the charge and probably complain about it, but if all goes as planned Kylo can make it up to him in bed.

The thought causes him to pause, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. He's got a lot of things to make up for. Hopefully there's enough time in Hux's next heat cycle for them to get to them all. He has so much _apologizing_ to do.

Shaking his head to pull himself back to reality and taking a few meditative breaths to will his suddenly hardening cock down, he opens up his list. (Jedi breathing exercises were not, technically speaking, intended to banish inappropriate erections. However, Kylo had always been a free-thinker when it came to his training.)

 **Food**  
**Cleanliness**  
**~~Tea from Coruscant~~**  
**Killing the Resistance**

The chocolates had been an embellishment. A bit of opportunism. But they had gone over well, he could tell. Even more, Hux had all but given him _permission_ to go on courting him. He was willing to let Kylo try to win his favor.

_Go on, then. Impress me._

Kylo had felt the smug challenge in every line of Hux’s body. It was heady, intoxicating, even without Hux being in heat. Kylo wanted to impress the omega more than he wanted air. More than he wanted Supreme Leader’s favor. More than he wanted to see every last Jedi in the galaxy burnt to dust. The desire had just grown on him, slowly at first, but so inexorable that he couldn’t pinpoint a time when he had first become aware of it. Was it when Hux had given him leave to go ahead with courting him? When he had thrashed Guitano so soundly, and with such deadly grace, but then looked so tired and unhappy afterwards that Kylo had wanted sit outside his door all night, like a guardian, just to make sure no other alphas bothered the omega? Was it when Hux had rejected him on the bridge? Or even before that, in the training room, when he first overheard that Hux was an omega?

Maybe it was even before that- all the way back to the first time they had met- Hux straight-backed and cold and smug as he greeted Kylo’s command shuttle, already (frustratingly, infuriatingly) unimpressed with his new leader’s favored one. Before Kylo had even _done anything_.  
  
“You’re late,” were the first words Hux had ever said to him, his mouth pressed in a distasteful line.

Kylo was used to people being afraid of him. He _liked_ people being afraid of him. Trembling, cowering, stammering, terrified into speechlessness at his very presence. (The cowering was his favorite part.) One of the many things Leader Snoke had taught him was how to cultivate fear, the way other, less interesting, people might a hydroponic vegetable garden.

When puberty hit him like a Corellian YT model freighter going lightspeed, Ben Solo had become a _big guy_ in an order of quasi-religious delicate pseudo-pacifists. There was a certain amount of hunching and shrinking and tentativeness, a lot of _careful Ben, easy there, gently with the other kids_ that had been beaten into him _._ But Snoke had taught him how to stand up straight, to hold his shoulders back, to use his bulk like the weapon for fear that it was. He had loomed over Hux, pleased with the way his shadow nearly blotted out the bright halogen lights.

And that overly-groomed little soldier’s son had taken one look at the Master of the Knights of Ren, at his size and his reputation, and thought _so this is Snoke’s attack dog_ , and then proceeded to wallop him over the nose with a shoe.

Metaphorically, of course. That was one of the reasons he wore a helmet.

Yes, Kylo decides. He really should have realized right then that Hux was perfect.

Examining the list, he considers and scratches in **Punctuality,** before turning his mind to the next plan of attack.

 

At precisely 0700 hours the next cycle, the door to Hux’s office chimes.

“Open,” he commands thoughtlessly, without looking up. He is elbows-deep in drafting the new emergency plans for Starkiller Base in the event of an attack, and everyone on his staff with an ounce of sense knows better than to disturb him for anything less than a full-scale catastrophe. He has already resigned himself to skipping his evening meal to complete the work. If there isn’t a body count, there soon will be.

A service droid rolls in, its wheels smooth and silent on the polished floor. There is something covered and trayed held in its pincher-like arms.

“What is this?”

 _Compliments of Lord Ren,_ the droid chirps in binary. The First Order did not see fit to install Basic speech in their droids. Who could possibly care what one had to say? But Hux had trained as an engineer before he was an officer.

Suspicious, Hux nudges the cover. He sniffs once, and his stomach grumbles. But surely not- his body was playing tricks on him, conditioned as it was to eating at precisely the same time every cycle. It almost smelled like...  
  
Like a bloody-rare nerf steak and beautifully roasted vegetables in melted butter. His mouth waters traitorously at the sight spread out on the tray before him like a gift. There was even a bread roll and a napkin.  
  
“Kylo Ren sent this?”

 _Lord Ren says you will think better on a full stomach,_ the droid recites. _The Republic must not be allowed to prosper because the general is hungry._

Ren really was serious about this whole thing, wasn’t he? _Bless_.

Hux tries and fails to imagine Ren lovingly cooking him dinner. Amends it to picturing Ren interrogating the kitchen staff as to how General Hux takes his steak, and them towering over one of the cooks in the Officer’s Mess, twirling his lightsaber threateningly as the meat sizzled on the grill. A smirk twitches at the corner of Hux’s mouth.

The cooks will have to be approved for hazard pay, of course, but in the meantime… he unfolds the napkin in his lap.

Watching the security feed from the general’s office on his brand new personal console, Kylo Ren optimistically crosses off both **Food** and **Punctuality.**

When he’s done, General Hux fires off a quick message to Kylo Ren’s private commlink before returning to work. _Thank you, Ren. Carry on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because my new job is kicking my butt, but I really wanted to get something out. We're almost to the end!


	7. Chapter 7

It is the most helpful reign of terror Kylo Ren has ever imposed.

When General Hux exits his quarters to begin his shift he nearly trips over a Stormtrooper who is crouched on hands and knees just outside the door, buffing industriously at the black durasteel floor with a dustcloth.  
  
“What are you doing?” Hux demands, righting himself on the doorframe and casting a surreptitious glance up and down the hall to ensure that no one saw his temporary disagreement with gravity. The only other person nearby is another Stormtrooper, likewise engaged in polishing the floor with a level of zeal normally reserved for religion or politics.  
  
“Cleaning, sir!”  
  
Hux pauses. “Why?”  
  
He could hardly chastise initiative, and it was true that black durasteel polylaminate, while appropriately ominous and aesthetically pleasing had a crucial design flaw, and that flaw was a tendency to pick up scuff-marks like a drunken officer on shore leave did embarrassing diseases- that is to say frequently, indiscriminately, and against Hux’s orders. There were cleaning droids, but they could only do so much against the onslaught of tens of thousands of pairs of polished boots every day.  
  
“Lord Ren’s orders, sir.” The Stormtrooper scoots to another section of floor without looking up, scrubbing at a heel-mark like his life depended on it. Stars, it probably did. Kylo Ren had been away on a mission for Leader Snoke for three weeks, but if anything his absence only made the crew more afraid of the knight. At least when he was on the ship they knew where he was to avoid him. Some of the fastest mental calculations in the First Order had been performed by Stormtroopers working out an alternate path to take to report for duty when they heard the telltale sound of a lightsaber up ahead.  
  
“Stop that,” Hux says when the urgent polishing begins to get distracting. He must bite back the unseemly primal urge to snarl and snap. Going into heat had always made him tetchy. “What, precisely, were Lord Ren’s orders?”  
  
Standing up, the Stormtrooper mutters, “Er- he said that if there was a single scuff-mark on the floor when he got back he was going to scramble our minds until our brains leaked out of our ears… sir…” A gloved hand wrings at the dust-cloth, urgent to get back to his task.  
  
_He can’t do that_ , Hux thinks irritably. _He’s not allowed and he knows it._ And anyway, since when had Ren cared about taking proper care of things? That helmet of his looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a sanitizer since Hux was a lieutenant. He had given Ren an earful on the subject of leaving the interrogation room clean after he used it no less than four times.

Like most compulsives forced to share space with people who ascribed to merely _ordinary_ standards of cleanliness, Hux often felt like he was the only one on this damn ship who knew how to keep things properly tidy-

 Unless… _Oh._ His ears feel faintly warm.  
  
“As you were,” he waves the Stormtrooper out of the way before clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. An unseemly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when, on the way to the bridge, he passes four more Stormtroopers urgently scrubbing, sweeping, and polishing at the floors, and one industrious soul attempting to climb a railing to wipe a cloth over a high viewport.  
  
 It would take a blaster pointed at his head to get him to admit it, but Hux had almost missed Ren’s clumsy attempts at courtship. Most alphas were far less… considerate. All cocksure ego, like they expected him to just _bend over and think of the Empire_. He liked meals delivered to his office and strangely thoughtful gifts. Liked the flattering way Ren bit his lip and looked away, as if he had glanced into a sun, when he nervously sought Hux’s approval for his efforts. If nothing else, it was proof that Ren could be _taught…_  
  
His body had already voiced its opinion on his matter, loudly and with impressive frequency as he cycled back towards his heat. But biology was simple. Reality was more complicated.

Still, it wouldn’t do for Ren to think his efforts were unappreciated. Not when he was finally making himself useful.

 _The ship has never been cleaner. Thank you, Ren._ He sends to Ren’s private commlink, after some deliberation on the wording.  
  
Despite being mired on some backwater planet somewhere peering under rocks for stray Jedi, Ren’s response is almost immediate. _Thank you, general. I’m glad it meets your approval._  
  
_Carry on, Ren._ Hux messages back with a smirk.

 

  
  
_Carry on, Ren._ The words had worked their way up besides water and oxygen and all the other things he needed to live.  
  
He would present Hux with his gift and wait, tense and eager, for those three words. _Carry on, Ren._ They made something low and primal unspool in his belly, just like the smell of Hux in heat. He had pleased his omega. Everything was right with the galaxy.

When the howling storms hit on IG-229 (a planet so exciting it didn’t even have a name) he kept himself warm by tracing his fingers over the lines of text on his commlink. Tacit proof of Hux’s approval, his acceptance. Everything Kylo was working for. And it was working- Hux had liked the chocolates, liked the tea and the dinners, he had even, as Kylo was leaving, met him in the departure bay, straight backed and polished, and told him to _return quickly, Lord Ren_. Then Hux had _saluted_ him, one hand fisted over his heart, head gracefully inclined so his burned copper hair caught the light, and Kylo had boarded his shuttle faintly flushed beneath his helmet. The _and successfully_ was only implied (of course it was implied- it was _Hux_ ) but the whole thing made him feel like some ancient warrior being told to come back with his shield or on it.

That had been a long shuttle ride. Luckily this was a solo mission; he was grateful for the privacy.

If anything, the return trip was worse. Finally, _finally_ , after five long and tedious weeks of clinging to waterlogged rocks and slogging across damp beaches he was headed back to the _Finalizer_. Back to Hux. Back to his omega, who liked his gifts and messaged him from halfway across the galaxy to say that he enjoyed them. Who, if the days religiously marked off on Kylo’s personal calendar were correct, would be in heat by now…

He shoulders his bag and descends the gangplank. At first he thinks it’s only because he’s been away for so long that Kylo imagines he catches that oily-sweet omega smell as soon as he steps out of the hangar, but then Hux is _there_ meeting him in the hall like he’s happy Kylo’s back, like he’s been _waiting-_

Kylo breathes. The smell of heat on Hux is like being punched in the face by a horny bantha. Even through the respirator on his mask Kylo nearly sees stars.

Every romantic holo he’s ever seen yammers in his ear that this would be the perfect time to sweep Hux into a kiss right here in the hallway. Instinct concurs and adds that he should probably drag the omega up against him and smell his neck a little just where that heat-scent is strongest too, just to be sure.  
  
Kylo resists. Barely.  
  
“Lord Ren.”  
  
“General.”

Surely Hux wouldn’t mind if he smelled him a little- but no. _No_. Not after he’d worked so hard.

“I trust your mission was a success.” Up close can’t help but notice how frayed Hux is looking around the edges. The normally dagger-sharp creases of his uniform more closely resemble a plasteel butterknife and his hair seems to be trying to escape its careful slick through some sort of cunning subterfuge. And was that- was his _collar slightly undone_?

 Kylo cannot look away. Hux looks positively _debauched._

It takes several seconds before he’s able to muster a response. “Yes. Well,” Kylo corrects, wetting his lips. Focus. _Focus_ -

Hux swats at an errand strand of hair that falls across his eyes and Kylo is undone.

What was he saying?

“’Well’ _what,_ Ren _?”_ Hux snaps suddenly. “Did you kill the kriffing force wizards or not?”  
  
“Reports of Force users on IG-229 were exaggerated.” Kylo drags his attention away from the slim flash of pale skin at Hux’s throat, ducking his head. “But I found something else,” he adds quickly, mollifying.

Almost belatedly he remembers to remove his mask. Hux was supposed to see him when got his gifts, that was The Plan. The catch releases with a soft rush of air and Kylo finds he’s breathing hard underneath.

Without the respirator that wonderful omega smell was even _worse._ He had never felt it this bad. It was like being pulled into a black hole, it was seductive warmth and desperation and _alpha alpha alpha please alpha,_ he didn’t know how Hux could _concentrate_ with this lust radiating off him like body heat-

Kylo swallows a whimper.

His omega would be pleased with this, Kylo knew he would. He would make Hux happy, he would. It was perfect. It was _Hux_. Finally a gift that was really worthy of the general. A gift that proved how strong he was, how devoted. A gift that showed that Kylo was the only alpha who deserved Hux’s favor. It had been a stroke of luck to even run across them- sheer chance- but he knew instantly that they would be just _perfect_.

Radiating nervous energy, Kylo unshoulders the lumpy black bag he had carried from the ship, setting it between them and tugging at the drawstring with gloved fingers.  
  
“Are those human?” Hux leans in to frowns at the slightly charred skulls inside. (Considering he had never built a bonfire before Kylo thought he had done alright.)  
  
“Yes,” he says a little breathlessly. “There was a small Resistance outpost on IG-229. I found them while I was searching-“  
  
“Are you telling me that these are the skulls of Resistance operatives?” Hux says slowly. Carefully.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You killed them.”  
  
“Yes. For you,” Kylo adds breathlessly.  
  
“And you… brought me their skulls _.”  
  
_ “Ye- mmf!“ the affirmation is cut off when Kylo suddenly finds Hux’s mouth latched onto his. Hux’s arms are flung around his neck, and somehow there’s a thigh hitched around his waist and they’re kissing _Hux is kissing him_. The kiss is all tongue and sharp teeth and hungry desperation like being _devoured_ , and he stumbles forward, arms full of amorous omega, as Hux does his ardent best to scale Kylo like a wroshyr tree.  
  
It’s wonderful, perfect, everything he dreamed of all those lonely nights (mornings, and occasionally mid-afternoons).

He has no idea how long they kiss before there’s a wet sound and a plaintive moan that Kylo is only _partly_ sure came from his mouth as Hux pulls back, looking aghast. A sharp, “ _Down_ ,” coupled with a swat on the shoulder and Kylo releases his clinging hold around the general’s waist, reluctantly lowering him back to the floor. It feels like tearing off a limb. Like Hux’s mouth- his warmth, his bird-sleight body in Kylo’s arms- is some vital part of him and he’ll surely die without it- He whines low in his throat at Hux slips out of his arms.

Breathing heavily, Hux rakes gloved fingers through his hair, attempting to restore it to some semblance of order where Kylo’s hands had ravaged it. The hall is mysteriously empty (the _second_ -fastest mental calculations being done by Stormtroopers seeking to avoid running smack into their superiors making out in a hallway).

“I will expect,” Hux says shakily, tugging at the hem of his jacket, “A full mission report delivered to my quarters.”  
  
“But-“ Kylo blinks, stunned stupid.  
  
“Tonight. Lord Ren. That’s an order.” Hux raises an eyebrow and oh. _Ohh_. Kylo’s heart shudders and thumps.

A slow smile creeps across his face, “Yes, general.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Something had gone wrong with the internal chronometer on the Finalizer while he was gone.

There was no other explanation. Kylo had returned to his quarters, and after a lengthy stint in the refresher (cold, _very_ cold) he had shaved, unpacked his things, then spent several long hours deliberating on whether to wear fresh robes to his assignation with Hux tonight (on the one hand _cleanliness_ , on the other hand, the lingering smell of charred flesh really seemed to be doing it for Hux). He cleaned his teeth, meditated, paced, read a very dull HoloNovel about Imperial politics in an attempt to resist the urge to touch himself like some horny apprentice, paced again.

Eventually the universe succumbed to its own inevitable heat-death, time itself restarted and the galaxy was reborn from the metaphorical ashes, stars burst into being, solar systems formed , and life crawled out of the seas and evolved legs and brains and invented starships and the chrono _still_ _only said 1125._

At 1600, the earliest possible definition of ‘tonight’ that he can manage, Kylo Ren crosses the short distance that separates their quarters and presses the comm button beside the door to General Hux’s private quarters.

The first thing Kylo notices when the door slides open is that Hux’s quarters are much nicer than his. Although he’s not technically a part of the First Order’s military hierarchy, Kylo had nonetheless rated what he thought was a senior officer’s suite. It was only fitting, considering his importance as Master of the Knights of Ren and the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. When Kylo had complained to Hux that the room he received was small and drab, more of a light-deprived storage closet than a bedroom, with barely even enough space to afford his grandfather’s helmet the shrine it deserved, Hux had assured Kylo that all of the rooms were the same. _Budget cuts, unfortunately, Lord Ren._ Hux had said airily. _We’re all suffering._ And, _It isn’t fair to ask the troops to tighten their belts if we aren’t willing to do the same._

Hux’s suit, Ren discovers, is not only twice the size of his own, with a bedroom separate from the living area, but he has a _viewport._ The walls are unadorned, but a swirling nebula is visible in the distance as a shifting spectrum of pale blues and pinks and greys silhouetted against the cold blackness of space. It’s beautiful.

His irritation is short lived, because as soon as he enters the living area Kylo catches sight of Hux pacing alongside a low black divan, and the sight of the omega momentarily takes his breath away. How did he manage to forget every time they were parted how lovely he was?

Compared to Hux, the nebula is nothing.

“Don’t just stand there, come inside,” Hux snaps, with only a trace of irritation. He’s taken off his gloves and his long, pale fingers are wrapped around a glass filled with some sort of amber liquid.

Hux’s eyes follow him, flitting up and down the long lines of his body and then guiltily back up to his exposed face as Kylo approaches. He knocks back the last of whatever’s in his glass and drags a hand unnecessarily through his hair.

After that kiss in the hallway, this welcome is considerably not what Kylo is expecting. Hux is nervous. Why is he nervous? In all of their time working together, Kylo has never seen Hux appear anything less than perfectly confident about a decision. Even when he was wrong. (Especially when he was wrong, Kylo thinks fondly. Hux believed that right and wrong were a question of who won.)

Kylo sits on the divan, instinct telling him to make himself seem smaller and less threatening, just in case it is _him_ that is making Hux anxious.  Here in this place that smells so strongly of the omega, Kylo feels like an intruder.

After what seems like a short internal battle, Hux sits next to him. Kylo can feel how tightly he’s wound, just as he can feel the warmth of his body where their thighs are nearly touching. The sharp omega-scent of him is nearly overwhelming.

“Listen, Ren,” there is a hint of that nasal whine that Hux gets when he’s tense. He chases the last bit of liquor clinging to his lips and Kylo is almost too distracted by the flash of pink tongue to hear what he says next. “I don’t want you to think I normally do this sort of thing-”

Some malicious impulse drives him to mutter, “What sort of thing is that, general?”

Hux’s eyes dart from Kylo’s eyes to his lips.

Just then a commlink chimes. Hux curses, realizing it’s his.

“Hux,” he snaps. “I gave orders to field my messages for the next twelve hours,” he continues before whoever is on the other line can speak.

The underling, whose voice Kylo doesn’t recognize, trembles. “Apologies general, but Sergeant Petra is requesting to speak with you.”

“Tell Mitaka to handle it.”

“Lieutenant Mitaka is on bereavement leave, sir. His mother, apparently.”  
  
“Oh, is he?” Hux’s voice drops, full of that soft menace that makes pride well up in Kylo’s chest, “Inform Lieutenant Mitaka that this is the third mother’s funeral he’s had to attend in the past two quarters. Now, either he came into being through some form of parthenogenesis, in which case he lied on his personnel file and I’ll be investigating him for non-human ancestry, or else he’ll find that he’s mistaken and report for duty in the next five minutes. Understood?”

“Yes, general!”

“Hux out.” He pulls the commlink off of his uniform and tosses it on the table beside his discarded glass with more force than is strictly necessary. Irritation carries over in his tone when he turns back to Kylo. “Where were we?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words tumble out of his mouth gracelessly, before Kylo can think better of them. All he can think is that _his omega is perfect_ and if he doesn’t kiss Hux right this minute he’s going to burst.

A vicious little smile twists in the corner of Hux’s plush mouth. “Try it and find out.”

This is another challenge. _Carry on, Ren._ Had he proven that he would be a good mate? 

Pulse pounding, Kylo does.

For one tense moment he half expects to suddenly find himself on the floor with Hux’s boot crushing his windpipe, but then to his surprise, Hux’s lips yield sweetly against his own. 

Hux growls low in his throat and then suddenly, like a switch has been flipped, he is devouring Kylo, tongue insistent in his mouth, hands pulling at him- one fisted in the cowl of his robe, another sliding up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair. Hux is ravenous. Long limbs wind around his body, vicious and needy, pulling him down on top of Hux, trapping him there, and the closest Kylo can imagine is that it’s like being mauled by a rathtar, only in a good way.

“Do you have any idea,” Hux pauses in plundering Kylo’s mouth with his tongue to pant against the crook of his neck. “How frustrating it’s been. Smelling you every day. Telling myself not to touch you.” He groans, and Kylo feels his breath warm just under his ear, quickly followed by his teeth.

It’s a minute before the words penetrate Kylo’s lust-fogged brain. “Ngh?”

Hux had wanted him? Did want him? Well maybe the second part was obvious now, very obvious, the way Kylo could feel his hardness pressing insistently against his hip, but before-

“I could have _killed you._ ” Hux growls in his ear even as his body seems to be screaming _alpha alpha please._ “I couldn’t get the scent of you out of my head. Do you know how hard it is to concentrate like this- do you even _care_ \- and then you _followed me around_ , you utter bastard-”

The fact that he’s clutching Kylo so tightly he can barely breathe belies the viciousness in the words.

“I know-“ Kylo whines, biting at his mouth apologetically. “I know- I’m sorry, can’t _think_ , you smell so good and I just wanted-“

“Yes?” Hux snarls. His lips are obscenely swollen, hair falling in his eyes and Kylo never wants to see him any other way but like this- hungry and debauched beneath him. His omega, his Hux, _his_ \- “This what you wanted, then? The ravenous omega?” He grinds himself slowly, lewdly, against Kylo’s hip.

A (disused) little warning bell goes off in the back of Kylo’s mind at the words. _Danger, danger._

“Just want you,” he says honestly, too hard and desperate for deception. “Hux-“

This doesn't seem to be the reaction he's expecting. The corners of Hux's eyes soften, and anything else Kylo might have thought of to say is lost because Hux is kissing him again.

They manage to stumble into the bedroom, only disconnecting long enough to undress. Kylo fumbles with his tunic, dragging it off over his head, the better to get back to kissing Hux senseless. (He had gone for the fresh robes in the end, remembering that according to Supreme Leader’s pamphlets adult omegas had a heightened sense of smell when they were in heat.)

Then they’re in bed and horizontal again, still half tangled up in their layers. Hux is only wearing one boot, the other discarded haphazardly in the living area as he clamors over Kylo’s body, trailing hungry kisses, and it’s good, it’s perfect, _his omega-_

“Wait- wait-“ Kylo gasps out. _He’d almost forgotten, it was important- “_ Who are your parents?”

Hux sits up, giving Kylo a look like he’s suddenly grown tentacles. “What? Why?”

“I need to know. It’s important. Who are they?” he pants, his entire body radiating with the effort of restraint. He felt like he was going to fly apart. Like if Hux doesn’t answer now _right now_ and then go back to what he was doing he’s going to be picking pieces of Kylo off the walls. But Uncle Luke said it was _important_. 

Noticing his struggles, Hux leans forward and bites gentle at the corded tendon in Kylo’s neck before dragging the flat of his tongue along it, the bastard.  
  
“-nngh,” Kylo complains eloquently.

“Well, my father,” there’s a kiss, “was Commandant,” another, “Brendol Hux,” Hux says low in his ear, pausing from a long, slow drag of his tongue that made Kylo go cross-eyed.

“… um, and your mother?” Kylo says when he remembers how words work.

“Wasn’t.”

“…good, okay.”

That was enough, that was _plenty._ He kisses Hux again.

It goes on for a while. After finally dislodging his second boot, Hux’s clever hands slide deftly across Kylo’s chest and then up his arms until he can pin his hands to the mattress over his head. Kylo cannot breathe for how lovely he is, pale skin and burnished gold hair.

Straddling Kylo’s waist, Hux surveys the body underneath him with a hungry gleam in his eyes, like Kylo is new terrain which he intends to conquer. “ _Mmm_ ,” he hums, leaning in to mouth at Kylo’s bare shoulder, right at the base of his neck where he knows his scent is strongest. “ _My alpha.”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. Thank you for staying with me! There's less humor in this section, but more feels, so I hope it meets with approval.
> 
> ETA: Added a couple of passages to the end because I thought of some more humor. sorrry I'm the worst.

Kylo Ren considers himself an experienced man of the galaxy. He’s seen things. He has the HoloNet.

As a youth, Ben Solo had occasionally been dragged along to cantinas and seedy spaceports, the kind with messages like  _F_ _or a good time with tentacles comm Xjshik'ta_ scratched on the refresher walls. And as master of the Knights of Ren, his mission to remove the foul Jedi stain from the galaxy sometimes takes him to decadent places. _Sexy_ places. Enough to consider himself versed in all the wickedness and debauchery the galaxy had to offer.

He’s had sex plenty of times before. (Three times if you counted blowjobs.)

But nothing in all his sinful experience had quite prepared him for the lurid reality of mating with an omega in heat. The heaving animal desperation. The _gyrating_. He’s sweating, writhing, can’t catch his breath- He’s pretty sure they’ve broken Hux’s bedframe. It creaks worryingly in time with their movements.

Hux had ridden him for what felt like an hour before flipping them over and pulling at Kylo until he was on him again with a low growl, Hux's long pale limbs twining needily around him. Hands that he's seen shatter a man's nose tugging at his sweat-damp hair and " _My alpha, good alpha-"_ purred in his ear.

Kylo's never felt more powerful. It _was_ good, beyond good. On top of that, he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten his own name. Nothing else matters except for the way Hux’s skinny thighs are wrapped his waist. The rough, desperate sounds he’s driving out of Hux with every thrust. The knowledge that those sounds were for _him_ \- he was pleasing his omega so well that Hux was yelping and howling and digging his nails into Kylo’s back. It felt like being drunk.

His mate, his omega, his Hux-

Stars, he’s _close_. Every thought, every cell in his body centered on one thing. He needs, if Hux will let him, _please let him_ he’s been so _good, good alpha_ , he's already brought his omega off with his hands and his cock more times than he can count. His rhythm falters, he just needs, please, he’s _almost_ -

Kylo yelps, whines in the back of his throat, when sharp teeth close over his carotid and _bite._ Hux doesn’t release him. The pain drags him back, whimpering, from the brink.

“ _More,”_ Hux growls, his voice rough and desperate, unrecognizable. _“_ I’m not finished with you yet.” 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s hours before Hux is finally satisfied enough to let him come.

“Can- Hux?” Kylo begs when he does, too far gone for words, hoping that the omega will understand from the way Kylo presses his hips urgently against him what he needs. He hasn’t been allowed to knot with his partner before, for fear of hurting them, and he’s always _wanted-_

“Please?” he nuzzles hopefully at Hux’s sweat-slick hair, panting, fighting the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock. “Hux?” he whines.

Hux groans in assent, nodding tiredly, and that is all the permission Kylo needs to push in deep, locking them together just as his knot begins to swell and he _comes._ The growl in his throat breaks into a whimper as he spasms and trembles, tensed like a bowstring over his omega’s body.

Exhaustion rushes in quickly in the wake of his orgasm. When his vision stops going spotty around the edges he collapses heavily on Hux’s back, earning a startled _oof_.

“ _Get off me,_ kriffing-hells you weigh a ton-“ Hux complains, but without any particular heat, as Kylo rolls them both onto their sides, still coupled together. Kylo draws his sleepy, protesting limbs close and Hux shifts against him, getting comfortable. For the first time since seeing him in the corridor outside the hangar bay, Hux seems at ease.

“Well, was that everything you imagined?” Hux mutters when Kylo is teetering on the edge of sleep. Later, when he’s less sex-addled, Kylo will remember the faint note of worry in his voice.

“Mmm,” Kylo cannot quite manage words yet. “ _Hux_.”

There’s a popping, grumbling sound, almost like purring, and it takes Kylo a second to realize that it’s coming from _him_. It’s almost enough to startle him back towards coherency. If he weren’t so warm and boneless he’d be alarmed. He’s never _purred_ before. He didn’t even realize he _could_ purr. (There had been a section about alpha mating sounds in Supreme Leader's helpful pamphlets, but considering it was in the section with no omegas in it, Kylo didn't look at it much.)

“My mother was an omega,” Hux continues, pillowing his head more comfortably on Kylo’s bicep, because of course he's chatty after sex. “I wanted so desperately to be an alpha. Like my father.”

“You’re a good omega. I…” he yawns. “I like… you’re an omega.”

Hux was a good omega and Kylo was a good alpha. They were both strong, that was- good. That meant something. When he was more awake he would know what it was. “My parents were both alphas,” Kylo mumbles, half-asleep. “S’not good. Bad.”

“Mmm,” Hux agrees.

Two alphas together made bad parents. Parents who were always fighting. But an alpha and an omega together, that was… good. Hux was an omega and Kylo was an alpha and they would be good...

Kylo’s eyes snap open.

“Hux?” he asks.

“Mm.”

“Are you- did we just-“

“ _What_ , Ren?”

“Uh... mate?”

Hux is quiet for a long moment, parsing out this jumble of words. Then he mutters against Kylo’s bare skin, “Ren, do you really think I would have let you anywhere near me if there was even the slightest chance of pregnancy? I have an implant.” The ‘ _you idiot’_ is only implied. (Considering their position, Kylo likes to think it’s _fondly_ implied.)

“Oh. Alright. Good.” Kylo settles himself back down, trying to calm the racing of his heart. 

The thought of offspring, like marriage, certainly had its appeal- a round-cheeked little boy or girl with Kylo's dark hair and Hux's ferocity. But they had so much to do first. For the first time, Kylo thinks he completely understands Hux's heat-induced frustration. The galaxy needed to be brought to order before it was safe for their child. 

“It’s nice to see how well you thought this through.” Hux continues, needling.

“That’s what you’re for.”

“Clearly.”

The purring picks up in his chest again, and Kylo drifts off into a heavy sleep. In his entire life he’s never felt so content- warm and comfortable with his mate curled up peacefully beside him. Hux sleeps soundly, occasionally squirming against him or making little growling noises in his sleep before settling back down. Sleep (and, Kylo thinks smugly, _phenomenal_ sex) eases the frown lines off of his face, making the omega seem younger and softer, almost sweet. He doesn't smell like heat anymore, he smells... content. Satisfied.

In the morning, Kylo would take on the galaxy with his mate by his side, and he’s never felt more enthusiastic at the prospect. Together, nothing could stand in their way.

Halfway through the night, Kylo drifts gently out of sleep to find that his arm and shoulder are stiff from being held out at a right angle all night. He shifts, trying to ease himself into a more comfortable position.

There’s a warning growl as Hux protests the movement of his pillow.

Kylo huffs, settling back down and resigning himself to a long night.

After a moment, he leans forward to bury his nose in Hux’s hair and smiles.

_This had been worth waiting for._


End file.
